The Deep End
by Kyry
Summary: Hermione's in over her head. She's been asked to gather information on the other schools, but what if she discovers more than she can handle? H/F yuri
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Just be aware that I've conveniently made Ron get over his jealousy by now. I know it's not supposed to have happened yet, but I just don't have the patience to give him that much attention... As for accents… I've been particularly lazy and you'll probably need to call upon the power of your imagination.

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned them, but I don't =(

_**Chapter 1**_

Hermione Granger wasn't one to panic. She kept a cool head on her slight shoulders, and did nothing to hide her stubborn, proud demeanour. Until now of course. Then again, in a situation such as this, she doubted that many (if anyone) would be able to maintain rationality.

Another piercing breath of cold air, and Hermione skidded around a sharp corner. No, it was not every day that one was chased by a hulking, furious Russian through an enchanted castle filled with young witches and wizards.

Sprinting around yet another turn, Hermione forgot to appreciate the uniqueness of her situation. He was gaining ground – fast. Breath coming in rugged, short bursts, she clutched her wand tightly, mentally readying herself to use it.

And suddenly he was on her – slamming her against the unforgiving coldness of the castle walls.

"'Vat do you 'vant girlie, 've both know you 'vere following me, so '_vat do you 'vant_!"

Hermione's mind stumbled over a list of pre-meditated excuses until, "I don't know what you're talking about!" burst forth. Why didn't she bring Harry?

"You know for damn certain of 'vat I am speaking." He growled from behind a wall of decaying yellow teeth. "So tell me, did that Dumbledore send you to spy on me? To keep 'vatch?"

Hermione gripped her wand to steady her shaking hands, chin jutting out defiantly. "And why would he need to do that _Karkaroff_." She spat.

He sneered at her, preparing a scathing response, but Hermione cut him off by ripping his sleeve violently up his arm, exposing his dark mark. "Is it because you're a death eater spy? What are you looking for?"

Karkaroff barked a laugh. "So, you know. I 'vould commend you, but it is already recognized by those of _importance_." He hissed. "As for being a spy," his eyes narrowed suspiciously as he cast a furtive glance around the hall, "Vit the Dark Lord rising – "

"'Vat are you doing 'vit Hermy-own?" Karkaroff jolted violently in surprise. Eyes wide, Hermione took in the figure of Victor Krum gracelessly appearing from around a corner.

"Krum?" She squeaked, before pushing away from Karkaroff and moving quickly to his side. "We were just discussing how well you were going to go in the first task! Oh, I hope you're prepared!" She gazed up at him worriedly.

Krum cast a dark glance at Karkaroff, before his eyes softened at Hermione. "'Vell, I am ready for anything the first task can bring." Another scathing glance at Karkaroff. "'Vill I see you at the library tomorrow Hermy-own?"

There was a pregnant pause.

"Oh, yes. Yes I suppose you will..."

"I 'vill look forward to it." And with a stretched smile that managed to look painful, Krum stalked off, grabbing his headmaster roughly by the arm as he did.

Hermione let out a shaky breath and slid down to the floor. After a few deep breaths, the tears started and before she knew it she was sobbing into knees that were clutched so tightly to her chest.

She was not aware of the pair of bright blue eyes watching her curiously from the shadows.

XXX

"Are you well?"

Hermione gasped in surprise and whipped around to see none other than Fleur Delacour crouching down to peer carefully into her watery eyes.

"Oh... Um... I was just..."

Fleur tilted her head inquisitively.

"I was just... What does it matter to you anyway?" Hermione got to her feet as blood flushed angrily to her cheeks. "Why are you here? Were you _spying_ on me?" Barely recognising the hypocrisy of her own statement, Hermione clenched her fists and stared at Fleur with blazing eyes.

The blonde smiled cautiously before replying, "Non, I am just," she paused in thought, "_wandering_ 'zese cold 'alls. 'Zese staircases... 'zey move all of 'ze time. It is easy to become lost in 'ere." Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously at the French girl. She was not accustomed to seeing such a civil, uncritical attitude when Fleur was present.

"Well... well I suppose I could show you around... if you really _are_ lost." She sniffed and wiped tear stained cheeks with the back of her hands. "Where are you going?"

"To 'ze library." Fleur hesitated. "I need a charm to put even 'ze biggest of 'ze creatures into a sleeping trance."

This _had_ to involve the tournament. Hermione paused as she considered her options. On one hand, Fleur was an arrogant, spoiled little French girl with the entire male schooling population drooling over her. Not to mention she was Harry's opponent. On the other hand, this was Hermione Granger, and she had never backed down from volunteering information. And besides, Hermione justified further, she didn't want the French girl _dead_ because she couldn't find an appropriate charm to use.

"I can show you where the library is. If you like I can even show you which book the spell is likely to be in. I saw one just like it once when I..." Hermione's voice was lost in the expanse of the hallways as she made a beeline for the library. Fleur hurried to catch up.

XXX

"'Zo will you tell me 'ze reason you were crying?"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at Fleur before returning to her examination of the bookshelf. "I don't know what you're talking about." She replied absently. Hopefully Fleur would at last display some form of social tact and take the hint.

"I am speaking of when you were crying in the 'allway earlier." Perhaps not.

Hermione pursed her lips. "It was nothing, just something that happened, I don't want to talk about it. Here, read this," She said without a breath.

Fleur sauntered gracefully to where Hermione was standing. "I do not like evasive answers, but for now I suppose I 'ave no c'oice." She moved to stand behind Hermione and peered at the page over the brunette's shoulder.

Hermione swallowed as she felt the delicate curve of Fleur's breast push against her shoulder blade. "It's sort of like hypnosis." She choked out, "Puts the recipient into a slumber-like state. I'm not entirely sure about the size of the creature you're using it on though... It could be that – "

But Fleur had already taken the book from her hands, and was frowning down at the writing. Hermione watched with interest as Fleur mouthed the words out loud, translating carefully as she read. The brunette almost wished she had taken the time to learn another language as a child. She sighed wistfully.

Fleur's expression lightened quickly; a delicate curve of the lips that wasn't entirely a smile. "'Zis is wonderful! Merci beaucoup, 'zank you very much." This time Fleur wore what was unmistakeably a smile, and Hermione found herself unable to resist smiling back.

"It's no problem really... I hope it helps in the tournament."

Fleur's eyes snapped to Hermione's face. "Careful wiz' 'how you use 'zis information," she warned, "I would not like it to become common knowledge."

But Hermione was lost in the angry, cold penetration of Fleur's gaze. She shivered as goosebumps climbed her arms and reached her neck. "I wouldn't... I'm not like that." She wrapped shaky arms around her waist and wondered when exactly her courage had deserted her. Perhaps Karkaroff had taken it when he left.

Then suddenly it was over, and that curious half-smile graced Fleur's lips once more.

"But of course," she soothed. "I am just being careful. There are 'zose 'oo do not wish me to succeed 'zis year. I do not 'zink you are one of 'zem." She tilted her head at Hermione. "I do not even know your name."

Hermione flushed in embarrassment. "Of course! I didn't even think to – I'm Hermione. We've met before; I never even thought to introduce myself."

Fleur's brow creased thoughtfully. "I remember. You told me to, errm... W'at was it..." Hermione's cheeks burned in shame. "Oui, to 'pull 'ze stick out of my arse and consider 'ze feelings of people around me,' non? I believe you left before I even 'ad the opportunity to reply."

Memories of dragging a purple-faced Ron down the corridor, and away from Fleur, surfaced. Hermione hung her head slowly, hiding the redness of her cheeks. "You didn't have to be so mean to him... He only wanted to talk to you."

Fleur let a shrill, mocking laugh escape her lips. "I 'zink you believe 'zat even less 'zan I do, 'ermione. 'Zere is only one reason _boys_ like 'im wish to speak to me, and 'zat is because of my 'zrall," She brought her lips to Hermione's ear and whispered, "It is 'ze fish-like expression 'zat gives 'zem away."

Hermione laughed unexpectedly and Fleur looked delighted at this achievement. "He did look like a fish didn't he!" A small pause. "Your thrall? You really _are_ a veala?"

"Oui 'ermione, or ra'zer, one quarter veela." Hermione was silent, and Fleur watched as her mind worked to piece together the puzzle that this information explained. She wondered what the girl would do with this newfound knowledge, and was sadly disappointed when Hermione grabbed her bag, muttered an excuse about the time and bed, before stealing quickly out of the library.

The Veela sighed delicately and turned back to the charm book Hermione had discovered.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thanks for the reviews guys! And if you're gunna story alert me, please let me know why =( feedback means faster chapters yes ^_^

**Disclaimer**: Don't own it. In fact, I think it's safe to say that even by then end of this fic I won't own anything. So I hereby extend this disclaimer to the very last chapter.

_**Chapter 2**_

Hermione sighed. It was a dreary November morning, and she had skipped breakfast in favour of the library. Perhaps a wrong decision, as the girl had found very little on her topic of interest: Veelas. Or more specifically, methods of resisting their thrall. At this point it seemed as if Ron would spend the rest of the schooling year ogling the French beauty. The idea made Hermione frown and she began to read even more furiously than before.

Page after page she searched, but it seemed that veelas were as elusive in writing as they were in person. It just wasn't fair! That is, until Hermione's keen eyes picked up the word 'veela' on page 1336 of her current volume. Hermione grabbed for her quill in excitement as she read, skimming over the words, "appear as beautiful women... dance seductive to almost all (especially young) males... transform into harpies... balls of fire from their hands..." Hermione paused.

"What?" she whispered, re-reading the paragraph twice more. "Oh...my..." she mouthed, forgetting to be disappointed that the page said nothing about how to resist the veela's charms. Hermione's mind went into overdrive as she remembered what she had seen at the World Cup. She considered the consequences for being quarter-veela rather than full-blood, and the powers Fleur would theoretically possess.

"Hermy-own." Sounded a deep voice behind her and Hermione guiltily slammed her book shut, spinning to face the intruder. "I did not see you at break-fast."

"Oh ... no... I had some um... research to do before class."

"Vat is your research about?" Krum asked, attempting to examine the book's cover.

"Boggarts." Hermione lied. "I thought there was one in my wardrobe this morning, but now that I've read about them, it must have been nothing."

"May I take a seat beside you Hermy-own?"

"Um, sure. And it's Hermione. Her-mi-o-nee." She sounded out.

"Herm-own-ninny."

Hermione plastered a smile on her face. "Exactly." She stood up stiffly, walking over to the shelves to return her book. Krum followed barely a step behind her, so that when she turned around, she was met with a visage of his sculpted chest. She swallowed.

"Um, listen Krum."

"Viktor."

"Viktor. I have class now, so I'll see you later okay?"

"Tomorrow?"

The immobile smile returned. "We'll see." She awkwardly patted his chest, before hurrying off to class.

XXX

Classes dragged by slowly for the rest of the morning, and Hermione couldn't wait for lunch. She spent her time thinking about what she had read, about Ron, about Fleur and what she was capable of. If she danced would it amplify her thrall? Could she still transform into a harpy with quarter blood? Could she shoot fire balls from her hands? So many questions and Hermione didn't know how she could answer them without having to speak to the French girl. And then there was the issue of Ron – the boy seemed hopelessly affected by the thrall, without any hope of reversal. Perhaps she would need to ask Fleur after all... Hermione shook her head at the unappealing thought. Just because the Veela had been civil to her once, did not mean they were friends.

Slowly, Hermione became aware of a dull pain in her ribs. She turned indignantly to the offender. It was Harry, and he seemed to be trying to convey some kind of urgent, silent message.

"Miss Granger." The Slytherins began to snigger. "Dozing off are we? Perhaps you need a little motivation to go to bed earlier hmm? Five points from Gryffindor." Snape drawled. There was a groan from the Gryffindors in the room, and Hermione hung her head as the Slytherins sent jeers and taunts her way. Lunch couldn't come fast enough.

XXX

"So, want to tell us what was up in potions?" Harry waited until they were seated in front of their lunch before he raised the question.

"Yeah, you were practically sleeping with your eyes open." Ron contributed before taking a bite of chicken sandwich. "Bloody Slytherins." He mumbled.

"Listen," Hermione said quietly before leaning in and motioning that they do the same, "Fleur is quarter veela."

Harry nodded without surprise, as if he had known this already. Ron, on the other hand, blanched at this news.

"I knew it!" He whispered loudly, spraying chicken across the table.

Hermione winced as she brushed a piece out of her eyelashes. "Do you know what this means? Remember at the World Cup, when the Veela got mad? They grew wings and beaks and shot fire from their hands?"

Ron became paler, "Bloody hell." He whispered in wonder. "What a woman."

Hermione scowled.

This interaction did not escape Harry's notice, as he smiled knowingly and looked over to their topic of conversation. Strangely enough, she was looking right back. At Hermione anyway. Harry frowned thoughtfully, looking back and forth between Fleur, Hermione and Ron, until the Veela noticed him. She turned her nose up rudely and looked away.

"So, erm, Hermione. How's your spying going?" Harry asked

Hermione snapped around to face him, still upset over Ron's blatant admiration for Fleur. "It's not spying Harry. It's diplomatically uncovering the truth. And it's going _fine_. Thank you for _asking_." She sent a pointed glare at Ron, who just as pointedly ignored it.

"I reckon that Karkaroff's a shifty one. Wouldn't surprise me if he had some secrets."

"Actually," Hermione whispered, "He's a death eater." Harry and Ron stared at her in shock. "I saw the mark on his arm last night and er... confronted him about it. He started to say 'with the dark lord rising,' but he was cut off and ran away."

"You think he's still a follower of you-know-who?" Ron asked, shifting his eyes to Karkaroff's empty seat.

"Of course," Harry replied. "People don't just stop being death eaters! I wonder if Dumbledore knows."

"I think so; he said that everyone of importance already knows."

"I bet this is why Dumbledore asked you to spy on him!" Ron hypothesised.

"Obviously." Hermione drawled, as she recalled the night after Dumbledore's request.

_Hermione 'hmph'd' for what seemed to be the thousandth time that hour. She was perched haughtily on the edge of a chair, arms folded , legs crossed and looking like thunder. Harry and Ron meanwhile, were relaxing calmly amongst a pile of cushions, a game of wizard's chess, and the warm glow of the common room fire._

_Ron was just about to claim Harry's bishop, when Hermione 'hmph'd' again._

"_Oh come _on_ Hermione! It's not that bad! Honestly, you'll hardly have to do anything I bet. Shake a few hands, nod a few ways, it'll be fine!"_

_Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm not fretting over the extra responsibilities Ronald. I'm angry that Dumbledore thinks they are necessary in the first place! I mean _spying_ on the other schools? Really." She scoffed." And how am I supposed to get close enough to them to do that anyway?"_

_Ron stared at her blankly, and Hermione threw her hands up in exasperation. "This whole tournament is meant to bring our schools together. It's supposed to be about cultural integration and acceptance! SPYING on them goes against the fundamental values of this competition! If – "_

"_Hermione." Harry had noticed the redness of the girl's cheeks, and decided to cut in before she either suffocated or exploded. "Dumbledore always has a good reason. For everything. I'm sure he has good reason for asking you to do this as well."_

_Hermione sighed, defeated. "I suppose it could be fun..."_

"_Yeah, 'n you can introduce us to some pretty French girls while you're at it." Ron said with a grin, elbowing Harry. "Though with the way he's been caught up staring at Cho lately..."_

_There was a small crash as Harry's Queen was obliterated._

"_Check mate." Ron grinned._


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Thanks again for the reviews! It's good to know what you guys think, and what parts I need to work on... My aim this chapter has been length, and it's been (way) more difficult than I thought (thus the particular lack of length). My proverbial hat goes off to all you writers who manage to do this (and more) consistently =) Drop a review and let me know what you think!

* * *

**Chapter 3.**

"Concentrate Harry! You're never going to do it if you don't _concentrate_!"

"What do you think I'm _trying_ to do! It's a little hard with a bloody great dragon on your mind!"

Hermione took a deep breath and looked at her friend seriously. "I know it's hard, but you really need to focus on that pillow. Just picture it, close your eyes and – _accio_." With a flick of her wand, the pillow in Ron's hands zoomed across the room to the young witch.

Harry stared at her flatly. "That's not helping."

"Harry you're doing everything right, you just need to concentrate. I don't know how to help you with that."

"Maybe we could erase his memory of the dragon?" At the incredulous expressions of his friends, Ron added: "Just until he learns the spell..."

And somehow Hermione couldn't bring herself to be frustrated at Ron's less-than-productive ideas. If anything, she found this naivety endearing. She smiled at him.

Harry shook his head at her. "_Accio_!" The sensation of her scarf unravelling itself from her neck broke Hermione's gaze, and she looked around to see where it had gone.

Harry was standing on the other side of the room, holding her scarf loosely, and wearing a particularly smug expression; Hermione hoped it was because he had performed the summoning spell correctly. The first task was approaching quickly, and Harry wasn't ready in the least.

XXX

Lunch was a quiet affair. Hermione was lost in thought, which was nothing unusual for her. At least, at an outward glance. However, if one were to have the fortune of uncovering the range of thought the girl's mind was contemplating, they would be surprised at the complete un-Hermione-ness of it all. Because tonight, _love_ was the topic on the young witch's mind. Or rather, love's inconspicuously rational nature. For Hermione believed that she was indeed in love with Ron Weasley (the boy was currently in the process of swallowing an entire, half-chewed potato). She believed, with a great deal of conviction, that somewhere (very) deep down, buried under layers of self-serving churlishness, Ron was a funny, loyal, caring, family-oriented boy. And Hermione found herself wanting to be the one to discover that hidden personality; to let him discover hers.

Neither of them had ever been in a relationship, Hermione considered, and she wanted him to want her for perhaps the first time she had wanted anyone to want her... like that. Of course, the likelihood of _that_ happening with Fleur Delacour around was extremely unlikely, if not downright impossible.

Even now, Hermione noticed the boy glancing over at the Ravenclaw table to catch a glimpse of the Veela. She caught Ginny's eye as the redhead shook her head distastefully at her brother. And while she appreciated the gesture, this did not make Hermione feel any better.

She resignedly followed Ron's gaze, catching sight of the blonde; magnificent as always, taking a slow, careful sip out of a goblet that was doing its best to hide her face from the rest of the room.

And then, as if she could feel the brunette's eyes upon her, Fleur lowered her goblet and looked directly at Hermione, lips quirking up in a guarded smile. Hermione blushed as every male previously staring at the Veela curiously switched their attention to her.

The colour drained out of Ron's cheeks and he spluttered for Harry's attention. "Look Harry! She's looking at me!" He mustered a lopsided grin and waved vigorously at Fleur. The Veela, noticing him at last, raised an incredulous eyebrow and turned away, goblet raised to veil her face once more.

"I think you scared her." Harry laughed.

Ron looked insulted. "I did not!" he protested.

"She wasn't even looking at you Ron, you dolt." Ginny piped in absently. "She was looking at Hermione."

"Nah Gin, at me." He grinned smugly, "Why on _earth_ would she be looking at Hermione?"

Ginny did not miss Hermione lowering her head slowly, as the blood drained from her cheeks. "More like why would she ever look at _you _Ron. Unless it's to stare at that peculiar mixture of drool and potato on your face." The redhead stood angrily and left in whirl of robes.

An uncomfortable silence ensued.

"So," Harry began carefully. "Any word on Karkaroff?"

"No," Hermione responded sulkily. "I've been meaning to ask Viktor about him, but haven't made it to the library yet."

"_Victor_?" Ron interrupted. "Since when are you two on a first name basis?"

"Since he _cares_ what I do Ronald! Since he _tries_ to be my friend!"

Before Ron could grumble out a retort, Harry jumped in to defuse the tension. "What about Beauxbatons? Surely they must have some secrets."

"Harry!" Ron actually looked insulted for the French school. "Don't be stupid, look at them! They don't have a bad bone in their..." Another appreciative glance at the Ravenclaw table, "er, bodies."

"Can't hurt to check it out though, Hermione?" But the girl was lost in thought, an odd glint in her eye as she considered the notion.

XXX

There was just something about the way Fleur Delacour's eyes sparkled at her that made Hermione uncomfortable. She didn't know exactly what it was, only that they appeared to be an enigma in themselves. No human feature deserved to capture the light in as many ways as those bright, beautiful eyes, and Hermione found herself lost trying to count all the shades of blue in the Veela's unwavering gaze.

Of course, by the time she realised this behaviour was in no way normal, it was already too late and Fleur was laughing musically at her expense; as audacious as a slap in the face. The brunette fumed and waited for Fleur's laughter to recede before huffing a rather rude "what" at the girl.

Fleur smiled prettily. "Now, now 'ermione. 'zat is not a very nice way to greet a guest to your school." She reached out and tapped Hermione gently on the nose.

The brunette bristled at the condescending gesture, scowling once more at Fleur. "I'm not a child."

Fleur was taken aback. She stood there at a loss for words as Hermione continued heatedly. "I'm only three years younger than you, you know!"

"I do not understand what 'zis 'as to do wiz' – "

"You! You're always going around acting like you're better than everyone! Like Hogwarts and its students aren't good enough for you to be around! Like I'm some kind of child you can just tap on the nose and make fun of! Well I'll have you know I am a lot more mature than you think! I'M the one who found you that spell last week!"

"I did not call you a child 'ermione," Fleur, looking rightfully indignant, squared her petite shoulders defensively. "But wiz' 'ow you are acting, you are only proving your own self wrong."

Hermione's eyes darkened with anger. "I don't see what he sees – what any of them see – in you. You're so... so... full of yourself!"

One of Fleur's hands flew to her chest. "_Moi_?" But Hermione had already stormed off down the hall. The French girl clenched her fists and seethed at the retreating figure for a few moments, before mustering up her pride and beginning her pursuit.

XXX

Storming down the corridors of Hogwarts, Hermione's mood only became worse. Not only was she angry at Ron and Fleur, she was also slowly regretting the way she had treated the French witch only moments before. Everything she had said had been some version of the truth, Hermione tried to validate to herself, but the feeling of regret and shame burned its way through her skin. She recalled the confusion in Fleur's eyes, and wanted to slap herself for being the cause of that. Or slap someone else, she reconsidered as she heard the familiar whine of Draco Malfoy.

Turning the corner, she was met with a crowd of students surrounding Draco, Goyle, Harry and Ron. She assumed the worst as she pushed through the crowd to reach her best friends. Taking her place on the other side of Harry, she developed an idea of what was going on. Malfoy and the Slytherins were all supporting badges that said in big, angry, red letters: "Support Cedric Diggory: The REAL Hogwarts Champion." And as she watched, Draco pressed his badge.

The words morphed into a big, bright green "POTTER STINKS," slogan, and the Slytherins behind Draco sniggered crudely as they pressed their badges as well, causing an eerie green glow to surround them. Hermione could see the words reflected in Harry's glasses and the insult in his eyes, and unleashed her bad mood upon Draco.

"Very funny Malfoy. You're so _witty_."

The greasy boy seemed to notice her for the first time. He sneered. "Want one Granger?" He held out a badge to Hermione. "Don't touch my hand though – don't want a mudblood sliming it up."

Before Hermione could even react, Harry burst forward, knocking her aside to point his wand directly at the obnoxious boy. Ron stepped up beside his best friend, wand at the ready, but not yet aimed at anyone.

Malfoy sent a taunting sneer at Harry. "What's wrong Potter, no Moody around to save you? _Densaugeo_!"

But Harry had been prepared with his own hex. Cast at the same time, the spells hit each other mid air, reflecting to strike both Hermione and Goyle. Hermione was knocked to her knees, winded, while Goyle flew back to hit the wall; skin exploding into puss-filled boils.

A third spell was cast – Hermione could not locate from where, but she recognised both the charm _and_ the voice who cast it. Through heaving breaths, she looked bewilderedly at Draco, who immediately collapsed to the floor, snoring. She grinned, before becoming aware of a stabbing pain in her gums. She could feel her teeth growing to press against her bottom lip, without any indication of stopping.

Tears welled up in her eyes and began to splash down her cheeks. She could hear the Slytherins laughing at her in between rousing Draco; could feel Ron's clammy hand on her back; could see Harry trying to disperse the gawking students. And then she could see Fleur, wand out, breathless and looking more concerned than Hermione had even thought she was capable of.

Hermione's embarrassment escalated at the sight, and her vision blurred with more tears. She clutched at her mouth and leaned into Ron, crying harder.

In the distance she could hear Snape arrive and Harry explaining what Draco had done to her. Then suddenly Ron was prying her hands away from her mouth and Snape was sneering down at her hugely overgrown front teeth.

"I see no difference." He hissed, and a sob pushed past Hermione's lips. She shoved herself violently away from Ron, making a dash for the Hospital Wing. The sound of her friends angrily abusing Snape faded out of ear-shot; the last she heard was Gryffindor losing fifty points, and detentions being allocated to both Harry and Ron.

Had Hermione been paying just a little more attention, she would have also heard a soft pair of footsteps padding down the hall behind her...


End file.
